


Looking Back at Me

by EmeraldSage



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: And write 4k when I should be researching, Blue Eyes, Falling In Love, Flashbacks, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Germany is Holy Roman Empire, Historical Hetalia, Hostage Situations, Inspired by the Fluff Monster, Kidnapping, M/M, No one shall disabuse me of this notion, Possible historical inaccuracy, Stop Sending me Songs that make me Cry, Treaty of Versailles 1918, Usagi323 this is YOU, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-24
Updated: 2017-03-24
Packaged: 2018-10-09 22:04:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10422795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldSage/pseuds/EmeraldSage
Summary: Ludwig and Alfred sure as hell haven't had an easy journey walking their path, but why should that stop them?





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [What if...](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/278979) by @gerame. 



> Title comes from the lyrics of "Never Stop," by SafetySuit, recommended to me by Usagi323, henceforth known as the Fluff Monster.

            The sound of the keys dropping into its designated bowl was sharp and chimed loudly into the quiet stillness of the apartment and Ludwig almost winced at the noise it created. He _did_ wince when he heard the soft, protesting groan that had emerged from the living room. But then, he realized what he’d heard, and dashed into the other room, hearing his coat floating and thumping onto the ground as if in a distance.

            He perched on the arm of the settee, letting the fond smile twist his lips as he carded his hand through familiar sun-bleached amber-gold locks. Their owner stirred under his hand, a tired sigh leaving pale lips, and he could only imagine how tired the younger must have been. He’d been south, the pale blond noted. His hair, usually a blend of wheat golden and pale earth, was far more the color of amber grain and burnished gold, and his skin was more tanned than it normally was whenever his lover visited the European continent. He’d lose the extra glow within a few days of the gloomy weather, the European nation knew, but he’d still have this radiance to him; a brightness that no European nation had ever had, something most of the New World nations shared.

            A large yawn disturbed his thoughts, and he glanced down once again, straight into bleary blue eyes. Blue eyes blinked once, twice, before their owner smiled, and Ludwig smiled back. “Good morning,” he murmured softly, smiling faintly when Alfred smiled back at him warmly, if a bit sleepily. Nantucket bounced cheerily in greeting as the American straightened against the back of the cushions.

            “Isn’t it evening,” his lover said around a yawn, stretching to work his body into motion. “Where are the dogs?”

            Ludwig felt a smile curl on his lips, “Is that the first thing you want to know?” he teased, “Should I be jealous of my own dogs?”

            Alfred huffed and attempted to elbow him as he pulled himself up from the couch, Ludwig following him with a grin. “If you want something to be jealous about, gorgeous,” the American grinned, “maybe it’s how good their cuddles are?”

            “Are you saying I don’t cuddle you well enough?” he demanded, feeling somewhat silly at the type of discussion, but Alfred burst out laughing and whirled around to wrap his arms around him.

            “Aww, don’t worry babe,” he cooed, “You still give the best non-sexy cuddles I’ve ever had,” and that’s when Ludwig squawked indignantly at their banter, and they both collapsed on the couch laughing.

            He loved laughing with his lover. Over the nearly full century since they’d first met, that had been one thing that hadn’t changed.

            _He’d been so apologetic._

_Ludwig hadn’t realized who the young blond in shining spectacles had been until after his brother had caught sight of whom he’d been speaking with. He’d stormed over, despite being defeated, furious, upset and more, but he’d slowed when he neared the two. He knew Gilbert had heard the young man’s apology; heard his sincere desire to apologize for the Entente’s attitudes and their thoughtless vengeance. **He’d** known that Germany had not been the one to start the war – merely the one who’d drawn the Triple Alliance so very close to victory. And though Ludwig hadn’t known who this young American aide had been, he’d been touched at the sorrow and the passion in his voice as he spoke of an alternative._

_He’d been hooked on those powerful blue eyes that grieved with him, even as they stood opposite him on the negotiation table, unyielding._

_And then, Prussia had come up next to the amber-blond, clapped a hand on his shoulder, smile wide despite its solemnity, said, “Amerika,” and Ludwig nearly had a heart attack as he watched the bright smile spread on the other’s face at the address._

_America. The United States of America._

_The wild card of a nation who’d been the reason he’d lost; the game-changer that he’d been warned about before hand, the one he’d been cautious but-not-too-cautious of, because how dangerous, how powerful could a young nation be?_

_He should have known better; should have known what it meant that the British Empire had once claimed the fledgling former colonies as his child – had molded the developing nation in his own image, with his own power, until the young colony discovered he had the potential to be as devastating and powerful as his colonizer, and decided he would be **more**._

_But…he glimpsed over at the young blond man –the young blond **nation** – with whom his brother was speaking, a familiar fond smile on the albino’s face…how could this young nation be the devastating wild card he’d been warned of?_

_Those blue eyes turned to him, honest and beseeching and beautifully blue like the sky, a smile lit within their impossible depths, and suddenly he was drowning; he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t speak. And suddenly, that face – those **eyes** – were smiling at him and he was falling, and it was the most wonderful thing he’d ever known._

_Oh Gott._

_“What’s with the face, Ludtz,” his brother teased him, trying to inject some humor in the presence of the one person amongst the winning alliance that seemed to be somewhat on their side. “I know I’ve introduced you to this little shit before.”_

_And suddenly the urge to gawp or smack his brother reared itself up viciously. Who the hell called one of their victorious enemies – a full on, rising imperial power at that, with several imperial powers **and** an **Empire** only a room away – a **little shit**?!_

_“Bruder,” he growled, almost stalking towards the albino, a mix of grateful and upset that he’d had to look away from those far-too-enchanting eyes to do so. Loud, unrestrained laughter stopped him in his tracks, and both the Germanic brothers turned to the amber-haired North American. Those blue eyes were grinning at him again, warm with sunshine beating down amidst cornflower blue skies._

_“Oh don’t trouble yourselves,” he laughed, and his accent had shifted. It was something purer, more of a drawl with a twang that ran hot in his veins, and definitely far more casual than what he’s heard the other address his company with. It made something warm curl in his heart, “Gil here’s got special privileges. Comes with teaching a boy how to shoot a gun and use a bayonet.” America was grinning, and Germany was suddenly hit with such a powerful sense of familiarity that it almost **hurt**._

_Had he met this boy before? Had his brother introduced him – as he’d just claimed to have done – to this pillar of sunshine and barely restrained imperial power? It certainly felt like he had. Perhaps it had been in that time – the time before, when he’d lost his memories from centuries ago. If his brother had been involved in the American Revolution, it would certainly be understandable that they’d been introduced then…._

_Had he felt this way then? When he’d probably been the same height and physical age as the young then-colony? Had he seen sunshine, warmth, and **freedom** glow within those impossible eyes as they stared past all his masks straight into his core? It felt so odd…._

_For the first time since he’d met his brother after the memory loss…he felt like someone was looking at him, looking through him, and finally – **finally** – seeing **him**._

_It was the height of irony that this bonnie blue-eyed boy happened to be amongst his fiercest enemies, even as he laughed, with his brother’s arm slung around his shoulder._

            It had been love at first sight, despite how he sighed and flustered whenever someone brought up the very cliché. It had been terrifying back then, going back into the room with all his enemies waiting to pass judgment on him for a war that wasn’t _his_ fault, knowing full well that the boy with the bonnie eyes and the bright smile was one of them. When America had refused to sign the terms the others had agreed upon – furious at the mere mention of Article 231, at France’s greedy attempts to dismantle Germany inch by inch: a slow, painful death that awaited him if he couldn’t pull himself together – he’d felt his heart lighten, even if only a little. His very being had been enraged, humiliated, and he despaired. He’d seen his brother’s solemn looks, knew what it had meant that day. They’d both known that the despite the treaty being signed, the war had not ended.

            It had just been given a breath of new life.

            America had visited them again later that night, this time in secret. Away from his father’s watching, caustic gaze and France’s sneering condescension, he’d drawn forth his own terms.

            _“I’m not blind_ ,” he’d said that night, sadness and bitter foreboding gleaming in those powerful eyes, _“I know what this will do; what it will inspire in your people. I will have nothing to do with them, if they will not heed my warning.”_

            A warning and a bittersweet gift he’d given them: peace with America, safe haven for his people who wished another home after the strife the allies had placed on them, and a promise of non-intervention for the future trouble that would stir the shaky peace that had descended upon them.

            America had left that night, and Germany had turned to his brother with steel in his eyes, even as his face flushed, and declared, “ _I **will** see him again_ ,” and Prussia had leaned back against the wall, an amused and calculating glint in his eyes, and nodded. A grin had twisted his lips, and Ludwig thought that even back then, his brother had known what was growing between the two young nations.

            A slow, gentle kiss was pressed to the underside of his chin, and he shivered slightly as he turned to face mischievous blue eyes. “You’re lost in thought, babe,” his lover murmured softly against him, nuzzling into his neck in a way that made him shiver.

            “Mmm,” he hummed, before spinning his blue-eyed lover around and pressing him tight against the wall, pinning him in place with his body. Alfred laughed, and Ludwig felt a smile touch his lips, “Good memories,” he said softly in response, pressing soft kisses to the other’s neck. He could feel the giggles hum, locked in Alfred’s chest, knowing he thought them embarrassing, and how Ludwig went after them intentionally. He loved that soft sound – not his lover’s full blown, invigorating laughter that would stop any man in his tracks, entranced, but not a moan or a groan, or any other of the intoxicating little sounds the other nation would gift him with when they made love with each other – and even though Alfred tried his hardest to bite them back, he always got through.

            Though this time, it seemed like he was only getting the laughter. He didn’t mind that either, though. He loved his lover’s laughter.

            He caught his lover’s wrists in his hands and tugged the laughing blond closer to him. He wrapped his arms around the other’s middle from behind, nuzzling into his neck, fingers twining with Alfred’s own. His thumb brushed against the soft skin of Alfred’s wrist, and he nearly stilled when he felt the slight roughness of scar tissue.

            Alfred, who’d noticed the sudden inattention – like he always did – turned around in the circle of his arms and wrapped his own arms around Ludwig’s neck, and connected their lips in a kiss to distract him from his discovery.

            It didn’t quite work, not that he blamed Alfred for trying, but…his eyes shuttered closed. He knew nations received scars from their wars, from the devastating events on their soil and in their lives that defined them as a nation. And as much as it satisfied the possessive part of his soul that curled far from the reach of his normal personality…he hated that he’d been amongst the few to have marked his lover in such a way.

            _He almost faltered when he stepped through the door and was met beautiful blue eyes that studied him quietly. Alfred – no, **America** – sat in the armchair in the small living space within the suite he’d locked the other within. He was still dressed in his uniform, cap and all, though his jacket was conspicuously missing. His hands rested in his lap, cuffed tightly at the wrist, the only thing indicative of his current status._

_The handcuffs were a formality at this point, honestly, because he was well aware that Alfred could break out of them without much pause. Nothing he had with him could restrain a nation that had America’s brute strength. The only thing keeping America passive right now was the squadron of troops he’d captured off of the battlefield. They’d be logged in as missing and presumed dead by the American military – not many troops ever got as close as this group had, and he’d rewarded them by keeping them alive…for now – and they were all he held over America to ensure his good behavior. Knowing that the fate of his citizens – his soldiers, fighting in **his name** – was in enemy hands kept the blond nation subdued more than any restraint he could ever come up with._

_“Germany,” he murmured softly, and blue eyes gleamed in the gentle lighting, “How did I know you were behind this?”_

_“Perhaps,” he responded dryly, “you simply know me too well,_ **_Liebling_ ** _.” America’s eyes shutter closed for a split second at the term – my love, my darling, my treasure; he’d whispered them all before in the younger nation’s ear, before he’d kissed him tight, holding him close – and he wondered what it cost the younger to hear such a thing knowing he was here against his will._

_He knew it burned. It burned him as well, knowing his lover, his treasure, was here unwillingly. If he closed his eyes, perhaps he could pretend that they were home, where Alfred was sitting curled and dozing in his favorite armchair as Ludwig built up the fire and watched him with a smile. But this wasn’t then, and those blue eyes refused to let him dream that it **could be**._

_They’d come together in the decades between the wars like they’d done so a million times before. It had been like coming home, to a hearth he’d never seen before but known so intimately that the question had been how they hadn’t done so sooner. It had been a whirlwind and a headache all the same. They’d dealt with the Depression, with the world watching the both of them, with their people up in arms and upset with the world and wanting so bad to do something about it, and still they’d found each other and locked the best of themselves away in each other’s embrace._

_There was a silence between them now – a tension that hadn’t existed even when they’d met for the first time as enemies over the negotiation table – and Ludwig despised it._

_“They will not find you here,” he said softly, after he felt the silence had gone on for far too long, and suddenly, Alfred’s eyes were on his, and he felt his composure slipping, “You will remain here until the war’s end. I promise, it will not last longer than that.”_

_“You have never taken a hostage before,” America murmured softly, eyes as piercing as his words. Germany’s glare was just as stern and potent, however, and he could match his lover’s piercing gaze, despite how he wanted to quail from it. America’s eyes had always been his weakness._

_“Never have I fought with my lover on my enemies’ side,” he said coldly, but even though regret flickered briefly through blue eyes, there was no remorse._

_“My men -,” America began, eyes flashing._

_“Will be safe,” he interrupted, cutting off the half desperate, half angry protest, “as long as you remain here and **behave**.” He sent his lover another piercing glare, “I have no problem with leaving you here, unbound. But your men are the price of this liberty. I will not touch them, and neither will my soldiers. They will be fed and taken care of. But in return, you will remain here, and you will **behave**.”_

_“ **Behave** ,” his lover growled, “what do you expect from me, Germany? I am not a tame nation state within your regime!”_

_“I’m well aware,” he responded dryly, “But you will act respectfully; you **are** a prisoner here, even if you will be treated as a guest. I want you to remember that before you act.”_

_America was silent for a minute, before he asked quietly, “Will you un-cuff me?” To that, Germany glanced down at said cuffs and nearly winced at the soft gleam of blood, sharp against the silver of the cuffs, and he wondered how he’d not noticed it before._

_“Remember your rules,” he repeated, and he wondered if he sounded as tired to America as he sounded to himself, before he reached over and gently unlocked the cuffs, removing them from America’s wrists. It earned him a soft hiss of pain, and he caught sight of the bloody gash on the other’s wrists that made his heart race._

_He moved to grab the bandages he’d set to the side in case of an emergency situation, and began to clean the wound, wrapping it tightly in the gauze. America wouldn’t look at him, and he couldn’t look at the other either._

_It was only once he’d finished dressing the wound, and had gotten up to leave, that America spoke, “What do you want, Ludwig?” It was soft, gentle, but undeniably pained, and he couldn’t bear to look into those eyes knowing they would reflect the inflection he heard in his lover’s voice._

_“You’re safe here,” he said, after a moment’s pause, and hoped that his voice wasn’t as hoarse as he felt it was. “The war can’t touch you here,” he added._

_Hands wrapped around his wrists gently, twining their hands together, “Oh Ludwig,” and his voice was so **sad** , “you **are** the war,” he whispered, before he let go and moved away._

_And he understood, even if it hurt._

            _“Look_ ,” _he heard as he turned to leave, and turned slightly, only to see Alfred standing in front of a mirror. Those blue eyes – dimmed a bit from wariness and weariness – caught a hold of his own and enticed him closer, and Lord have mercy on him, but he’d never been able to deny anything to those eyes, even in the depth of his heart. He moved back inside, slotting right against the American, and caught sight of their reflections in the mirror. He glanced over at Alfred, who was tracing a finger on the mirror’s surface wistfully, confused._

_“What is it?” he asked, almost testy, but Alfred’s eyes were sad and reproachful, and he felt a flush climbing up his neck and into his cheeks._

_A hand twined with his and his head jerked up from where he’d glanced away when he felt the chill of the bandage and the warmth of the blood on the hand linked with his, looking straight at the mirror, where their tangled hands lay splayed on its reflective surface. Alfred’s face was sad._

_“We’ve grown older,” he said softly, and Ludwig was struck with how profound that small observation seemed to be._

_“That’s what we do,” he countered, confused, and all Alfred did was smile. He straightened, pulling his hand loose from where it’d been twined with Alfred’s own, and moved away from the other blond. He saw the downward twist of the other’s lips, the heavy sigh that had left his lips, but he would not be moved even as his heart mourned._

_“Ludwig,” Alfred called out again, and this time he stopped but didn’t turn. “They’re not going to let you get away with this if they find out.”_

_He glanced at deep blue eyes over his shoulder, and he knew the other had seen the ice in his own. “Then I have to make sure they don’t find out.”_

_He didn’t have to look back to know that sad blue eyes were following him out. The door slid shut and sealed as he exited, and he nearly froze when he met his brother’s knowing ruby gaze. How long had he been there?_

_A hand settled on his shoulder, and they continued to walk out of his secure private wing in his mountain retreat. It was deep in the heart of his territory, in a place where the population lay in the double digits, and was at no risk of being bombed. The likelihood of any of the Allies finding America here was next to nil, especially if none of the spies he knew were there found out. His brother’s hand was a comforting weight on his shoulder, even as the nation himself was silent._

_He hesitated, and then, “Bruder -,” but Gilbert cut in._

            _“He loves you still,” the albino said, and when he turned to look, there was a soft warmth and a hint of sadness alongside the uncompromising, unyielding discipline that came with centuries of his military exploits. “He will forgive you, that much is in his nature, Ludwig. But you must earn it.”_

_“He’s…” he hesitated again and hated himself for it. But aside from Russia, who’d shared nearly a century and a half of close friendship with the young nation, there was no one who knew America better than Prussia. There was no one better to ask, “He’s so **sad** , Bruder. I thought he would be angry, furious even, hot tempered and outraged…but he’s just sad. Sad and quiet, and I don’t know why. It’s not like him.”_

_Gilbert hummed, “That’s true,” he acknowledged, “but this isn’t the first time I’ve seen him like this.”_

_Ludwig whirled around, startled eyes darting to his brother, even as he studied the corridor to make sure no one had seen his sudden lapse in decorum, “What do you mean? When has this happened before?”_

_The hand on his arm was gentle, his brother’s eyes sad, “During his Revolution,” his brother said, a gleam of nostalgia in his eyes, “When England met him on the battlefield for the first time. He was quiet for days, walking around camp with an aura of solemnity and sadness that nearly drove people to despair, it was awful.” He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the memories, “It took nearly losing to the green-eyed bastard to shake him out of it, but every time England won a battle, every time he was there personally, America would get quiet. He’s always like this when it comes to fighting people that he loves.”_

_“I never want to see him like this again,” he blurted, feeling all the more like the child his brother often made him feel like, and flushed. But Gilbert’s smile was kind, not teasing as it might have been had the situation been different._

_“If you did, I’d be worried,” he murmured, a smirk quirking his lips. “The answer sounds easy enough, Ludtz, just don’t be his enemy anymore. But it’s not that easy, is it?”_

            No, it hadn’t been.

            “Ludwig,” Alfred’s voice was strong, steady, but quiet, as he called his attention, and he basked in the feeling of the arms wrapping around him once more. “C’mon,” his lover’s voice rang out, and he knew the other was going to change the topic, “let’s make something to eat! I’m starving! And I know you probably haven’t eaten anything since lunch. It’s already past 8, you must be hungry too -!” he was answered with a growl from Ludwig’s stomach – to which he glared at his traitorous organ and Alfred laughed, taking his cue to continue babbling. On and on the babble went, and Ludwig felt his shoulders relaxing as Alfred tugged him towards his kitchen.

            It was always like this, whenever bad memories came up. But it was easy enough to get through them, when he knew his lover loved him, when he knew that he’d been forgiven. Alfred forgave too easily, even if he never forgot.

            A sloppy kiss at the corner of his lips drew his attention away, and Alfred glared at him, “Stop being a downer,” he said, “and help me with food already!”

            He lashed and arm out and hooked it around Alfred’s waist, pulling the other closer so he could pull him into a breath stealing kiss that had them melting into each other. Alfred’s arms tightened around his shoulders and a hand curled into his gelled hair, gleefully messing it up, and he was grateful for the privacy of his home that let him do things he’d be too shy to do in public.

            “ _Mein Herz,_ ” he murmured softly, and felt Alfred’s smile against his lips.

            “My heart,” he echoed softly, in the words his father had given him, and he’d made his own, and he wondered again how the world would see them now.

            But even then…he had no regrets.

* * *

_“At the end of the day, let there be no excuses, no explanations, no regrets.” – Dr. Steve Maraboli_

**Author's Note:**

> Regret comes from wishing that things had been done differently. Remorse implies a sense of guilt for the consequences of one's actions. 
> 
> I fully believe that Germany is the newly unified Germanic states that had once made up the Holy Roman Empire. He is, therefore, far older that America, even counting the years that America spent as a colony within the power of Great Britain.


End file.
